Do You Know Where The End Is?
by CaringIsNotAnAdvantage
Summary: Another defeated cry came from outside their stronghold. Not long now. There was little for them to do but wait. No matter the outcome, the people that they were would soon cease to exist. It suddenly seemed imperative to Erik to get his infernal helmet off. It had been years since he had allowed Charles in, and every second without that beloved presence in his mind was agony.


"All those years wasted fighting each other," Erik rasped, his hand pressed to this bleeding side as he met Charles' solemn gaze. This was it, no more second chances. Outside both men could hear their friends and companions dying. Such strong, beautiful lives destroyed after years of fighting. Waste, such a waste. Such a terrible, terrible waste it all was. This pain, much more than the one from his wound, brought tears to Erik's eyes. In the end, his foolishness and pride had done this. Young and hurt and proud, he had destroyed them all in his determination to protect them.

Charles reached out to him, grasping his hand tightly. His eyes too, sweet and familiar to Erik after all these years of love and fighting, were brimming with tears. He had been right all along, Erik knew. He should have listened.

— — —

 _After the chaos of D.C., Erik ran. What else was there for him to do? He had nothing left. His brotherhood were all dead, destroyed by Trask while he was rotting in jail and Charles was self-medicating and hiding from his problems. The mutants who had stood with him, fell under his wing, and looked up to him were all gone. He had failed them._

 _For a moment, just a moment, he had been able to recapture the joy and amazement he had felt in his short time at the Xavier mansion. The thrill of finding such talented young minds, of liberating them and teaching them just how incredible they were, teaching them their own beauty. There was simply nothing like it. For a brief moment he had thought he would be alright. Of course the absence of Charles, the guilt of what he'd done to his beloved friend, weighed heavily in his head and in his heart, leaving aching holes that he filled as much as he could with new students, a new family to protect and care for. And if he got frustrated with a training session gone wrong, if he found himself wishing for Charles' easy way with the children and his ability to connect with them to bring out their best, well there was no one who dared to mention it._

— — —

"To have a precious few of them back." Charles' hand tightened in his as another defeated cry came from outside their stronghold. Not long now. There was little for them to do but wait. No matter the outcome, the people that they were would soon cease to exist. It suddenly seemed imperative to Erik to get his infernal helmet off. It had been years since he had allowed Charles in, and every second without that beloved presence in his mind was agony. Erik moved sharply to rectify the problem, only to pause with a gasp of pain, his hand convulsing in Charles' firm grip. He looked wide-eyed up into the telepath's grim smile, silently begging Charles to understand him even though the barrier of the helmet.

— — —

 _But even that fleeting happiness had been ripped from him, much like every other joy he'd found in his life. His brotherhood torn from him, Raven off on her own mission of vengeance (he could almost manage to be proud when he didn't think of what Charles would say. Overprotective and controlling as he'd been of her, Erik knew he loved her desperately, just as Erik himself did), and Erik stuck in the pentagon, helpless to prevent any of it._

 _And then came the most devastating thing of all: hope. Hope in the form of an ostentatious young boy with amazing speed (who he tried not to think too hard about. "My mom knew a guy who could bend metal once." Jesus Christ, he was fucked) and an odd man with (frankly disgusting) bone claws, and then Charles. Charles, standing before him, standing, eyes blazing with righteous fury and fist connecting with Erik's jaw and suddenly Erik's world was right again. It didn't matter that they still didn't agree, that Charles hated him, or that they had to find a way to stop Raven. Charles was there._

— — —

 **Thank god, oh thank god** Erik though as he felt the warm familiarity of Charles in his mind. The wheelchair lay abandoned, tipped over and kicked aside in Erik's haste to accommodate Charles' lurch towards him. In a matter of seconds, Charles managed to push out of his chair and sprawl neatly on top of Erik, his useless legs tangled with Erik's, and his body supported in strong hands. Erik had ignored the tremors in his fingers at the feeling of Charles so close to him again, focusing on Charles' own shaking hands as they reached for his helmet and pulled it off slowly, gently until Erik could feel that beautiful presence swirling against his own thoughts, asking to be let in.

With a burst of joy, he threw his mind wide open and reveled in the love and acceptance that he had denied himself for far too many years.

— — —

 _It was as much an agony as it was a joy to be near Charles again. Things were so different, Charles was so different. The charming optimism and beautiful naivety that Erik had both loved and loathed were gone, replaced with such anger and bitter resignation, and it pained Erik to know he had caused it. And even as he was shown yet again just how impossible it was for them to work together, to merge their beliefs, to just agree on anything, Erik could not help but feel that draw that had pulled him to Charles from the start. God, but he loved that man. Loved his reluctance to harm those who wanted to harm him, loved his fierce adherence to a belief that Erik despised. Loved the feeling of **home** that filled him when Charles was near._

 _But it didn't matter. It didn't matter that they needed to work together to save their species, or that together they could save Raven. It didn't matter that with every second spent in Charles' company the balloon of hope that Erik could not smother kept on expanding and expanding until Erik thought he would burst with it, and overflow with hope and love and give up everything he had ever worked for to fall at Charles' feet and beg him to touch his mind. None of that could change the fact that they did not fit. Charles would never understand the need to fight. He had never known strife, had never had to defend himself, and had fallen into depression when his passions were taken from him. Erik would not live like that. He would never again stand helplessly as things he loved were taken from him, and he would never be able to abide by Charles' rules. There could be no compromise, he told himself as he turned away from Charles and Hank and made his escape. The balloon in his chest deflated, and he warned himself never to let it fill again._

— — —

"I'm sorry," Erik whispered as Charles' worn hards softly framed his face. "I'm sorry," as he pressed his lips to Erik's temple, them his forehead. "I'm sorry, Charles, I'm sorry," as tears were brushed from his cheeks with tender fingers and sweet lips. The pain in his side was nothing now compared to the pain of their mutual loss. "I'm sorry," Erik murmured into Charles' mouth. **I know, my love. I know the gentle presence whispered in his mind. You did what you thought was right, as did I. We were neither of us truly right. What's done is done. Now we must only hope.**

Outside the sounds of battle had ceased. The sound of sentinels approaching was ignored by the two men clinging to one another on the floor. Eyes closed tight and foreheads pressed together, neither moved as the door was ripped from its hinges and the metallic beasts swarmed in, taking comfort in the warmth of their shared space. The agony of grief was less when shared between two minds. **I forgive us both.**

— — —

If it weren't for the silver hair, Erik might not have recognized the man before him as the snarky boy who had whisked him from his cell in the pentagon. His striking hair was cropped short, and his features had shaped into a vague reflection of his own, confirming an idea that Erik had been avoiding thinking about for years.

"Heya Pops." Peter smirked. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I mean literally, everywhere," he added when Erik continued to regard him incredulously. "I've been in 5 countries today alone."

Finally, Erik pulled himself together enough to wonder aloud why the boy had been looking for him, still baffled by his sudden appearance.

"The Prof sent me. He's been trying to find you with cerebro, but you must sleep with that stupid helmet on, because he had to send me to run and find you. Anyways, I'm supposed to bring you back with me, no is not an option. The Professor gave me some long speech to tell you about some plan he has to improve mutant rights and fight back or something like that...you know what I left the letter a few continents back, let me just–"

In a flash, the kid was gone, leaving Erik staring at the blank space that once housed his son. Before he even had time to mutter "what the fu–" before a silver blur approached him and Peter was thrusting a crumpled piece of paper into his hand, saying "here, this explains it better anyway."

Erik smoothed the letter out, the intimate scrawl of Charles' handwriting littering the page. He skimmed it quickly, picking out phrases like merging of ideologies, political offensive, and Mutant Bill of Rights before his eyes settled on the last line.

 **Come home, Erik. We've got work to do.**

Looking up to give Peter his reply, he found the space in front of him empty, and felt a hand settle on the back of his neck. "Hang on tight!" Peter cried, and Erik was on his way home.

— — —

Erik woke slowly, a luxury that he had never stopped appreciating. It had taken years of peace to calm his fight-or-flight wake response, and he counted every morning that it continued a blessing. As usual, he woke to find himself plastered against Charles, his back a warm line along Erik's front. Charles clutched Erik's arm to his chest like a child holding a blanket, no doubt using his body heat as a replacement for the blankets Erik always kicked off in his sleep. Taking in the warmth of their tangled bodies, the familiar sounds of students beginning their days, and the smell of someone burning eggs in the kitchen, Erik pulled Charles closer to him. He nuzzled into the smooth skin of Charles' head with a chuckle when he felt his lover stir.

"What's so funny?" Charles asked with a sleepy petulance that only Erik ever got to hear. "Nothing," Erik rumbled. "Just thinking how nice it is, now that you've gone bald. No more hair to tickle my nose when you're using me as a personal heater."

Dodging an elbow to the ribs, Erik stretched, and leaned over to press a kiss to Charles' mouth, still slack with drowsiness. "Up you get, Professor," Erik teased as he stood to help Charles out of the bed and into his chair. "First day of the new semester, can't set a bad example for your students by being late." Flashing that predatory smile that never failed to intimidate students, unnerve parents, and set Charles ablaze with want, he added, "I'm meant to be the bad influence around here, not you."

After both men had been cleaned and dressed, and a detour had been made to the kitchen for breakfast (and to make sure that nothing was truly on fire) both men moved at a leisurely pace towards their respective classrooms, calling greetings to the students and teachers that swarmed around them. As he walked, Erik felt Charles brushing gently at his mind. They talked outwardly about lesson plans and garden renovations, while exchanging their love and contentment, their excitement about that upcoming meeting with the President about the amendments to the Mutant Bill of Rights, and the beautiful feeling of _home_ and _family_ that they had created around them.

Erik thought of his helmet, locked away in a case in the mansion's basement and ignored for decades. As he leaned down to give Charles a parting kiss, he marveled at his desire to never touch it again.


End file.
